The water in an odd-shaped gourd was warm and tasted curious - slightly bitter but savory. Another was filled with a thick porridge of wheat or barley and he finished it quickly, eating with his fingers. Another contained a fish soup and he drained that. One contained cold cooked vegetables and he wolfed them, hardly noticing the piquant taste. Beside him was a scarlet tray bearing small bowls. The ceiling was polished cedar and the walls were lathes of cedar, in squares, covered with an opaque paper that muted the light pleasantly. He was lying on a thick quilt and another was thrown over him. It was small and very clean and covered with soft mats. ![]() ![]() For a moment he thought he was dreaming because he was ashore and the room unbelievable. ![]() What are clouds, but an excuse for the sky? What is life, but an escape from death?
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